


His dark materials

by Nival_Vixen



Series: Word of the day [13]
Category: His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alethiometer - Freeform, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, M/M, No Kate/Derek, Stiles is Lyra, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-06
Updated: 2014-06-06
Packaged: 2018-02-03 15:35:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1749752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nival_Vixen/pseuds/Nival_Vixen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles has lived at Oxford for all of his life. He's friends with Isaac the kitchen boy, Scott the gyptian, and has his daemon Lyra for company. Then his friends get taken by Gobblers, his uncle makes a presentation about Dust, Ms. Argent comes to Jordan, the Master of Jordan College gives Stiles an alethiometer, and that's when the true adventure begins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His dark materials

**Author's Note:**

> Some parts are taken directly from Northern Lights, and I don’t own this anymore than I do Teen Wolf.
> 
> Character comparison is listed at the end.
> 
> (Word of the day: peregrine)

Stiles had lived in Oxford all of his life. His uncle, Lord Rafe Asriel, was an important man and rarely stayed in Oxford for long. As such, Stiles was raised by the Scholars or left to his own devices more often than not. His daemon, Lyra, was far more sensible than Stiles, and though he didn't always listen to her advice, she never said  _I told you so_  more than once.

His uncle was a lord, but also a man of science, and all of the Scholars of Oxford listened to him. They may not have agreed or liked everything he said, but they always listened. Stiles hid in the Retiring Room one evening his uncle was due to return - Lyra fluttering as a butterfly against his chest and telling him that they were going to be in so much trouble if they were caught - and peeked out from the wardrobe to watch the projected images and hear his uncle talk about Dust. The word seemed important, and Stiles took in every bit of information about it that he could. He saw that his uncle looked over to the wardrobe a few times, but he never said anything, even when Stiles was before him the next morning to provide his usual yearly update on his hobbies, activities, friends, and studies. Stiles knew that Dust was up in the North, and that a child had seemingly repelled it but it stuck to an adult. Despite his interest in the topic, no one mentioned Dust around him again, and Stiles didn't want to admit how he'd heard about it, so he couldn't ask.

Stiles and the other Oxford children (there were three: Isaac from the kitchens, Boyd, and Erica) were in the middle of a war with the townies, and while they didn't like each other at the best of times, there were times when they worked together against a common enemy. (No one liked the brick-burners, and Stiles was proud to say that he had the best aim when throwing stones and lumps of clay, though Lydia - a townie - came a close second. If she wasn't a townie and he had to loathe her simply on principle, Stiles might've called her a friend.) The other enemy were the gyptians, and Stiles had to admit that he didn't hate them like he did the brick-burners. He even made friends with one gyptian named Scott, after a lucky brick-burner hit him with a rock and Scott retaliated in his defense. Scott was a boy who never seemed to stop smiling, and who's mother treated Stiles like he was her own (and threatened him with the wooden spoon like she did Scott, too).

The next time Scott and the rest of the gyptians were in Oxford, Stiles convinced his friend to play Gobblers with him, and a few other children joined in, including Isaac, Lydia and her townie friend Jackson, and Erica and Boyd. Their game involved everyone hiding while Stiles and Lyra closed their eyes, counting, and trying to hunt them down, each person dying dramatically when he and Lyra pretended to gobble them up. Just like the real-life Gobblers did. Neither Scott nor Isaac seemed to like the game, both of their daemons trembling in fear when Lydia  _screeched_.

"You're afraid of 'em, aren't ya?" Stiles asked, laughing.

"No! I ain't 'fraid of 'em!" Isaac said hotly.

"'Sides, they're not real!" Scott said, though he looked dubious.

"They are too! My Uncle saw 'em. He killed one just by lookin' at it. That's what I'm gonna do if I meet a Gobbler. Stare at it 'til it falls down dead, foaming at the mouth," Stiles said with a decisive nod.

"Yeah, right, Stiles. The only way you'd ever kill someone is by  _talkin'_  at them," Jackson said, rolling his eyes.

Stiles glared at the townie, silently promising himself that the next lump of clay he threw would be right at the smarmy blonde's head. Lyra let out a snarl, shifting to an ocelot. Jackson's daemon didn't seem impressed, the Siamese cat licking a paw delicately. Lyra leaped anyway, spurred on by Stiles' emotion, and by the time she reached the other daemon, it had shifted to a large lizard, hissing at her. They tumbled together on the ground, fighting each other the way their humans would never do, the others cheering them on.

"Jackson, I'm ready to go home," Lydia called over her shoulder, heading back towards the town.

Jackson looked between her and his daemon, obviously torn between the two, but let out a small snarl and hurried after her. His daemon wriggled out of Lyra's grip and bolted after them, Jackson bundling her up in his arms when she turned back into a cat, continuing after Lydia.

"Ha, he's scared too!" Stiles said, crouching down to look at Lyra's wounds.

She had a small gash on her side, but would be all right. Stiles grinned at her, proud of how valiantly she'd fought against Jackson's daemon (Jackson was a few months older and had more control over his daemon than Stiles currently did). He picked Lyra up carefully and said goodbye to Erica and Boyd, heading back to Oxford with Isaac and Scott.

...

Soon after, Scott and the gyptians left, Isaac had to concentrate on his duties in the kitchen, and Stiles was required to be taught by the Scholars before his Uncle's next arrival. A year passed before Stiles heard about the Gobblers again, and by that time he'd almost lost interest in them entirely. He was walking down the docks with Isaac beside him, thinking about how their war would progress this year and how the Oxford kids would win this time around, when he heard yelling from over by the gyptian boats. Ma McCall was yelling angrily at a horse-trader, a few gyptian kids standing to the side.

"What's goin' on?" Stiles asked one of the kids, frowning.

"Scott's gone missing," he was informed.

"Stiles! Have you seen Scott?" Ma called, her anger giving way to fear. Her peregrine falcon daemon was circling overhead, anxious and looking across the town for Scott.

"Not since the last time you were here," Stiles said, chewing on his bottom lip as Lyra darted over to the boxes stacked on the edge of the dock, as if Scott was hiding behind them. "C'mon, let's go look for him," he said, nudging Isaac.

"We'll help too," one the gyptian kids said, the others all nodding in agreement.

"Right. You three, check with townies. You four can handle the brick-burners. The rest of you split into twos and search the streets. Me and Isaac'll go on the roofs," Stiles directed.

"You let me know the minute you find him, y'hear me?" Ma called. "You find him and bring him back here so I can whoop his hide for scaring me like this," she added, barely a tremble to her voice.

Stiles nodded, though he didn't dare comment on the not-so-good incentive for Scott to return home, and he and the kids rushed off. Isaac had to leave for his kitchen duties before they'd even finished the third roof, and Stiles spent the rest of the afternoon searching with Lyra. She shifted between a hawk and a dog, using whichever form was easiest for the area. It was close to nightfall when Stiles finally admitted defeat, and he returned to Oxford without having found Scott. Lyra whimpered, snuggling in close to his chest, her ocelot's rapid heartbeat a rhythm against his.

It wasn't until later that night that Stiles realised he hadn't seen Isaac since that morning, and discovered that he hadn't turned up for his shift at the kitchen either. He remembered his uncle's talk about Dust and the North, concluding that the Gobblers had taken children there to hoard and eat them, or to help them repel Dust. It didn't matter what they'd been taken for, Stiles just knew that he had to go to the North to save his friends.

...

Ms. Argent was one of the most beautiful women that Stiles had ever seen. She wasn't like any of the scholars, or even like the other women from Dame Hannah's College, and Stiles adored her golden monkey daemon - it was just as sleek, pretty, and sophisticated as she was. She asked him if he'd like to accompany her to the North, and Stiles could do nothing but nod in agreement.

The Master of Oxford was an old man who had once been great. He moved slowly, and required help from the Butler most days just to get his coat on, but he was a kind man overall. Stiles was surprised to be confined to his room on the Master's orders the same evening as meeting Ms. Argent, and even more surprised to have the very same man visit him late at night; long after everyone else in Oxford had gone to bed. The Master gave him a velvet-wrapped golden watch, although on closer inspection, Stiles saw that it wasn't a watch at all. There were four hands, three dials, and the pictures along the edge of the alethiometer (what the Master called it) had nothing to do with time in the slightest. He told Stiles that it was one of only six in the world, his uncle had donated it to the university, and that it told the truth.

"It would best if you kept it secret, Stiles. Even from Ms. Argent," the Master said softly, hands trembling. On his shoulder, his raven fluttered her wings slightly in response.

"How do I use it?" Stiles asked, his head bent as he looked at the small pictures carefully.

"It is something you will have to work out for yourself, dear boy," the Master said, somewhat reluctantly.

There was a knock at the door, and then the Master was gone. Stiles barely had enough time to put the alethiometer back in the velvet pouch before his door opened and a servant helped him pack a battered suitcase. She worked quickly - too fast for Stiles to keep up, in fact - and he had no way of stowing the alethiometer in his suitcase, but rather had to keep it in his jacket before he was whisked away to Ms. Argent.

...

Ms. Argent's flat was expansive, expensive, and extremely beautiful. Gold seemed to touch every surface, and Stiles had never seen luxury like this before. Even the Retiring Room paled in comparison. Her flat was light and airy, wide South-facing windows letting in the sunlight and breeze, and everything seemed so delicate. Stiles worried that he might break something, but Ms. Argent didn't seem concerned. After he put his suitcase in his room and took off his coat, Ms. Argent took him shopping, buying seemingly everything in sight. Trousers, coats, suits, shirts, shoes that he could see his own reflection in,  _everything_. He was bright-eyed and tired when they returned to the flat, but Stiles had to have a bath, wash, and change into his new clothes for a dinner with Ms. Argent's guests. By the end of the night, he felt like he'd been paraded around for every lady in town (and then some), and Stiles was exhausted.

"Where's the thing?" Lyra whispered before he could lay down.

Realising that she meant the alethiometer, Stiles went to his coat and took it out, returning to his soft bed to inspect it further. Thirty-six pictures in total, three dials that turned the three larger hands, and a fourth that swung about no matter how straight and still he held the alethiometer. His exhaustion faded as he played with the alethiometer, turning the dials carefully to three different pictures and watching as the fourth swung about. By the time he was tired again, Stiles still had no idea what the alethiometer was meant to do, but he still enjoyed playing with it nonetheless.

"D'you think we're meant to give it to Uncle Rafe?" he asked Lyra with a yawn.

"We're not meant to show it to Ms. Argent, why do you think Uncle Rafe would be any different?" Lyra asked, turning into a mouse to get closer to the alethiometer.

"Well, he did donate it to Oxford; maybe we're meant to give it back to him?"

"Stiles? I'm going to turn the light off now. Call if you need anything," Ms. Argent called out sweetly.

Stiles shoved the alethiometer under the blanket in case she tried to come into his room. "All right, Ms. Argent. Good night."

"Good night."

Stiles slept with the alethiometer under his pillow, just in case.

...

Ms. Argent taught Stiles in a gentler and not-as-sporadic way as the Scholars had, filling the gaps in his knowledge about simple things. He knew about anbaromagnetic charges, experimental theology, atoms and elementary particles, but didn't know that the Earth revolved around the sun. However, Stiles knew about Dust, and when Ms. Argent was telling him about electrons, he said proudly, "Yes, they're negatively charged particles. Sort of like Dust, except that Dust isn't charged."

As soon as he said that, Ms. Argent's daemon snapped his head up to look at him, his golden fur bristling. Ms. Argent laid a hand on her daemon's back.

"Dust? Where did you learn about that?" she asked.

"Just someone at Oxford. I think it was in passing; it sounded interesting so I couldn't help stopping to listen," he added.

"I see," Ms. Argent said.

"Is it right, what I heard? Did I get it wrong?" Stiles asked.

"I don't know. I'm sure you know more than I do. Now let's get back to electrons."

...

A few months later, the season changed, and Ms. Argent decided to hold a cocktail party. Lyra was getting restless, asking Stiles every night when they were planning on running away, that Ms. Argent was just keeping him busy to distract him from the North. Stiles had argued in a quiet voice vehemently in the beginning, but now he was beginning to wonder if Lyra wasn't right after all.

He wore a leather messenger bag to keep the alethiometer close, and on the evening of the cocktail party, Ms. Argent told him to take it off, despite his protests. She snapped at him harshly, Lyra becoming an ocelot in response. Ms. Argent's daemon jumped off the sofa, pinning Lyra firmly, the firm grip becoming painful as he twisted her ears in his paws. Lyra cried out in pain, and Stiles echoed the sound.

"Please, stop hurting us!"

"Do as I tell you then," she said.

"I promise!"

The monkey let go of Lyra, stepping away as though bored, and Lyra jumped into Stiles' arms, trembling as he stroked and eased her slowly.

"Now, Stiles," Ms. Argent said firmly.

Stiles turned and slammed into his bedroom. No sooner had the door banged shut was it open again, Ms. Argent standing barely a metre away.

"If you continue this coarse behaviour, we shall have a confrontation, Stiles; one that I  **will**  win. Take off that bag this instant; control that unpleasant expression; and  _never_  slam a door in  **or**  out of my hearing again. The first guests will be arriving shortly, and you will be perfect and delightful in every way. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Ms. Argent," Stiles replied.

"Good. Now change, and on your way back, check that we have enough ice for the drinks," Ms. Argent said over her shoulder as she left.

Stiles made it through the cocktail party, smiling as perfectly and delightfully as he could. He discovered that It was surprisingly easy to be so fake. Lyra was still shocked from earlier that evening, and spent the night being as small and unnoticeable as possible. Stiles saw her leave while he was talking with an elderly lady about his studies, but didn't think anything of it until she returned a few minutes later.

"The monkey was in our room! He knows about the alethiometer," Lyra warned.

Stiles could almost feel Ms. Argent's gaze burning on his back. He had to leave as soon as possible.

"Be a moth and keep an eye out. The second it's clear, let me know. We're leaving," he murmured, brushing his fingertips against her fur.

Lyra didn't argue, and while Ms. Argent was distracted by her guests, Stiles left the room to go to his bedroom. He put on his warmest clothes, scooped up the leftover coins that Ms. Argent had given to him earlier for sweets, and put on his leather bag with the alethiometer inside. As soon as Lyra gave the word, he ran.

...

He'd barely been out of the flat for thirty minutes, and someone had already hit on him after seeing he was alone (Stiles lied and said he was waiting for his father who was a murderer; the guy had blanched and ran), and now a group of people were throwing nets at him. He was eventually caught, their daemons working to drive him and Lyra in a corner, and it wasn't long before Stiles came face to face with his captors. The gyptians recognised him easily, taking him to Ma McCall, where Stiles told her everything. She gave him a mug of warm milk, and Stiles fell asleep with Lyra curled up in his arms. The gyptians headed North that very next morning; no one was keeping Ma McCall from her son.

Stiles got used to life on the gyptian boats, his speech and mannerisms copying theirs as the weeks passed, and Lyra spent a lot of time flying or running around the deck with him. When he wasn't helping the gyptians, Stiles spent most of his time in his small bunk using the alethiometer. Hours would pass without him realising it, his eyes focused on the symbols and the hands. It was becoming clearer every day, and there were times when Stiles was almost positive that he knew something, that it was right there on the tip of his tongue if only he could put the words together.

He continued practising until one day it just seemed to  _click_  and everything suddenly made sense. The fourth hand swung to pictures, but it wasn't as random as Stiles first thought. He grinned, testing his theory out a few times, switching the three bigger hands between pictures as he focused on finding the answer for each question. It was kind of like sinking down to the right level, focusing not only on the three pictures with the question, but the fourth one providing the answer as well, and making sure that he interpreted it correctly. Ma McCall was impressed and told him to keep practising, that they might need his skill sooner rather than later.

Not all of the gyptians were as impressed. Ma McCall wasn't the only gyptian that had lost a child to the Gobblers, and they had banded together to get their children back. Deaton, one of the gyptian leaders from another clan, asked for a demonstration of Stiles' skill. When Stiles returned with the correct twigs from the witch's spray five minutes later, Deaton finally agreed to contact his witch friend to help them.

...

End of first chapter.

Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Character comparison:
> 
> Stiles is Lyra  
> Isaac is Roger (kitchenhand and Stiles' friend)  
> Scott is Billy (gyptian)  
> Melissa "Ma" McCall is Ma Costa (gyptian)  
> Rafe is Lord Asriel (but not Stiles' father - in my brainspace, he had a one-night stand with Ma McCall, but left for the North and doesn't know about his son, which is good news for everyone all around. He likes Stiles enough to not want to kill him)  
> Kate Argent is Ms. Coulter  
> Jennifer Blake is Serafina Pekkala  
> Deaton is Farder Coram  
> Iorek Byrnison and Lee Scoresby will stay the same  
> Derek is Will


End file.
